


Planning Ahead

by hamish_adler_holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock and John arent detectives, Teenlock, Theyre in America because why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:06:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamish_adler_holmes/pseuds/hamish_adler_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years ago, John Watson's girlfriend, Amelia, died of cancer.  All she left behind was a crypic note telling him to visit her grave on a certain date, at a certain time.  John goes, not sure what to expect, and meets the mysterious and handsome Sherlock Holmes.  What did Amelia have planned?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John...

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to listen to me ramble on about Johnlock then check out
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/johnxlock)
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://iamsherlockedwatson.tumblr.com/)

_Don't stop living just because I did.  Cancer was always going to get me.  I don't want it to get you too, okay?  There's just two things I want you to do.  1-Take my books.  Otherwise, they'll just get sent off and torn apart and it makes my skin crawl just imagining them broken.  2- On January 29th, two years from the day I die, at noon, visit my grave.  Just do it, please.  I promise, you won't regret it.  I guess there's a third thing, John.  Know that I love you more than anything else in the world.  All I want is for you to be happy.  So, don't stop dating after me, okay?  (Sounds pretentious of me, yes, but I know you John)  Just please...keep living._

_Always with you, Amelia Rose Archer._


	2. January 29th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the day in Amelia's note...

The paper of the note is worn from years of opening, reading, stowing away.  And today is finally the day.  The 29th of January.  I glance at my watch.  Still about twenty minutes before I'm set to leave.

I gently touch the note.  I still miss Amelia so much it hurts, and some days are worse than others where I still assume she's going to ring me and ask me how my day was.

We were dating when she was first diagnosed.  People were afraid, of the cancer and what would come of it.  They pulled away, because they knew they would be hurt by it.  One told me she pulled away because she thought it would ease Amelia's conscience to not leave as many people behind.  But Amelia was never afraid of death, and I think the people leaving just made it easier, but not because of the guilt.  I kept expecting some emotional day where I would hold her hand as she told me she was scared, but as the time went on and on-and her time disappeared- they day never came.  The day she died she only smiled.  She never shed a tear, except for me.  She was only ever worried for me, that I would be so broken by her death.  I laugh at that now, how it was so typically Amelia to be worried that I was sad while she was dying.  But she was right.  I only kept going because she asked me to.  If she hadn't, then...I don't know.  She was my light.

Glancing at my watch, I see that 15 minutes have passed while I was stuck in a daze.  I toss back the last of my coffee and head out to my car.  She isn't buried far, but I want to get flowers.  I go to the little shop down the road and buy a bouquet of yellow flowers, then head back to the car and to the cemetery.  I'm shaking, my knuckles white on the steering wheel where I'm gripping it.  My heart pounds and I have to take a few deep breaths before I can step out of the car.  I walk slowly past all the sunken stones, aged and crumbling, and finally reach Amelia's.  Hers is new and shining, a black stone with her name engraved along the top.  She only lived for sixteen years, and my eyes fill with tears.  So much time taken from us, all because of her damn sickness.  I let the tears fall, and I lean down to brush some dirt from the stone.  I run my hands over the quote engraved there, one of her favorites-

        _"We are chained to this life by a chain of gold, and we dare not sever it for fear of what lies beyond the drop."_

I smile and close my eyes, my hands running over her name now.  I turn and lean back against it, my eyes still closed against the bright sun.  I don't know how long I stay like that.  I imagine she's here.  She always smelled like vanilla, and I imagine that I can smell it floating in the breeze.  The wind is her hand on my face, her fingers in my hair.  The rustling of the tree's is her voice, her laugh.  I smile to myself, picturing her.

"Oh, uhm.  Sorry."  A deep voice above me, shocking me out of my reverie.  I open my eyes and squint up at the person in front of me.  He's tall, with dark curls blown wild from the wind.  Sharp cheekbones and shoulders, full lips, and piercing eyes.  He's got probably half a foot on me, and he looks about my age if not younger.  He's thin, almost alarmingly so when  compared to his height.

And he's gorgeous.

"No, it's fine."  I stand, brushing dirt of my jeans.  "Are you here for...?"  I gesture down at Amelia's stone.  The stranger nods, pulling a handful of yellow flowers from under his long coat.  He sets them down next to mine, touches Amelia's name, then straightens and squints at me.

"Oh, sorry.  Er, John Watson."  I stammer, holding my hand out to him.

He shakes it, his large hand swallowing mine.  His hands are soft and warm, despite the chill.  "Sherlock Holmes."  He smiles and it warms his face in a way that I can't resist grinning back.  I realize that we're still holding hands, and I pull mine back, clearing my throat and laughing awkwardly.  The stranger-Sherlock-bites his lip and glances down at the stone.  "How did you know her?" he asks, staring at me with wide eyes.  I have to think a moment before I can answer.

_What the hell?_

"She, uhm...she was my girlfriend.  We dated for the last few years of her life.  Year, actually."  I laugh.  "It felt like much longer."

He nods as if this made perfect sense.  "I remember now, she was always talking about you."  He's still staring at me.  I smile, trying to fight the lump growing in my throat and I look down, blinking quickly.  He reaches out as if to touch my shoulder but the hand drops, and I glance up.

"She talked about you, too."  I suddenly remember long conversations about him, and his name seemed to pop up more often towards the end.  I see pain on his face, one that echoes my own.  "It still hurts, doesn't it?  After all this time."

He nods silently, and I move beside him as we stare down at the stone.  I grin slightly, thinking of Amelia and her laugh and everything that keeps her alive in my mind.  After a while, he clears his throat and my head jerks up.  I realize that we've been standing close enough that our arms touch, and I shuffle away.  "Sorry."

"No, it's...fine."  He squints at me again, then his eyes are wide and a smile back on his face.  "Coffee?"

"God, yes.  I love Amelia, really.  But it's fucking freezing."  

This wins me a laugh and we set off together, talking like we've known each other for ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this so far. I have two other works that I'm (kind of) updating regularly. This one, though, is already finished and I can update it a lot quicker. 
> 
> The quote in this chapter is from Cassandra Clare, said by Magnus Bane in Clockwork Prince. The Infernal Devices series is absolutely amazing and I recommend it if you haven't already read it. It's so worth all the emotional pain from fictional characters <3
> 
> Feel free to leave comments xx


	3. Coffee

We end up in some small cafe called Speedy's.  I order coffee and, after my stomach growls so loudly I'm sure the floor grumbles, some food.

"How did you know Amelia?" I ask, blowing on my coffee.

"We were friends since we were born, really.  Her mom and mine were best friends, so we always ended up hanging out.  I think the longest time I went without seeing her was...well, now.  I saw her almost every day."  Sherlock bites his lip, staring out the window.  "The first few months she was sick, I panicked.  I didn't understand.  We were sixteen, you know?"  I nod, sipping my coffee.

"So you're eighteen now?" I ask, glad to hear he's my age.

"Yeah.  And you?"

"Same." I say, smiling.  We fall silent as the waitress sets our food on the table.  She turns to Sherlock and smiles, flirting blatantly.  "Can I do anything else for you?" she asks, and I almost choke on my food at the double meaning to her words.

"I could use some ketchup, yeah."  He smiles and she sighs unhappily as she shuffles away.  When she comes back, she slams the bottle onto the table and stalks away.

"Well," I say, nibbling a fry.  "Someone doesn't deal with embarrassment well."

Sherlock snorts into his drink.  "Look, John, I was wondering..."  He trails off, digging into his jacket pocket.  "Did you get one of these?"  He pulls out an envelope and I immediately recognize Amelia's curling handwriting on the back.  My fork clatters to my plate as I reach into my pocket and pull out my own letter.

"This is weird," I say, my hands shaking.  "Did she ask you to come today?"  I already know the answer, but I have to ask anyway.  He nods, then bites his lip again to hide a smile.  I narrow my eyes.  "What?"

"It's just...I mean, we were closest to her.  And let's be honest, neither of us have really moved on.  I think she wants to make sure we aren't alone."  I nod, glancing at the faded paper in his hand.  I'm about to ask if I can read it before he folds it again and stows it back into his jacket.  I tuck mine away as well, feeling almost disappointed.  We're quiet again as we eat, but it isn't uncomfortable.  I haven't felt this comfortable in silence since...well, since Amelia.  Sherlock was right, these past two years I've been mostly alone, but I've never minded the silence.  It helped me work things out.

I watch Sherlock for a moment.  He's thin, almost alarmingly so, but his flannel manages to be straining across his chest.  He's pale, and his eyes keep changing color, almost every time he blinks.  Different shades of gray and blue and green, and I feel myself getting lost in them.  After a moment, I realize we're staring at each other, and the clatter of the restaurant has all but faded away.  The only thing that breaks the stare is the waitress slapping the check down on the table in front of us.  She glances between us and chuckles.  "So I interrupted a date, then.  My bad."  She saunters away before I can say anything.

"She thinks we're on a date?" I say, my face heating up.  Sherlock just shrugs his shoulders.

"You done?" he asks, snagging the check from me.  I start to protest but he waves it away.  "Now you have to buy me food another time to make up for it."

My brain whirs slowly.  "Why, Sherlock, are you asking me on a date?" I say, putting my hand on my chest dramatically.  

He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes.  "What if I am?"

_Oh._

"Well..." I start, staring at him.  The light is hitting his face at an angle so his cheekbones look so sharp that I think if I touched them they would cut me.  "Then I'd say why the hell not?"  He smiles at me, scribbling down his number and sliding it across the table towards me as he gets up.  He leans in close to my ear and whispers, "Until the next time, Mister Watson."  He straightens and laughs a bit before pulling his jacket tighter around him and slipping out the door, leaving me sitting there and more confused than ever.

And the happiest I've been in two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading x If you want to hear more of my nonsense ramblings follow me on twitter, my username is johnxlock :)


	4. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the texting happens:  
> Sherlock is in italics, John is underlined.

I drive home with a small smile on my face.  I'm still grinning like a fool two hours later when I finally work up the courage to text Sherlock.  I type out a quick greeting then put my phone down and turn the sound all the way up before going into the kitchen to do dishes.  My parents trust me enough to stay home while they go on a year long vacation, travelling to places all over the world.  They offered to let me come along, but I couldn't bear to be far from home, far from Amelia.  They know I wouldn't plan any parties, and that I wouldn't get myself into trouble.  I smile as I think of them as they left, my mom pressing a kiss to my head as she whispered comforts and my dad putting a hand on my shoulder, asking me if I'm sure I'll be okay.

I'm shocked out of the memory as I hear- _is that the T_ _ARDIS?-_ before I remember I set that as my ringtone and I drop the plate I'm washing into the sink as I run towards the living room.  I smile when I see Sherlock's name flash across the screen.

" _Hey, John, thought you'd never text."_

"Sorry.  Thinking."

It wasn't exactly a lie.  I was thinking; about him, the letter, Amelia.

_"It's fine.  Today was nice."_

I'm grinning like a fool.

"I think Amelia knew we would get on well."

_"Probably.  She did always know that sort of thing.""_

"Always.  When do you wanna meet up again?"

I hesitate before sending the message.  I don't want to seem to eager.  After all, it's just...

What is it?  A date?  If it is, I don't mind.  He said it was, so obviously he doesn't either.

_"How about tomorrow?"_

"Sounds perfect."

 --

I'm still laying awake at four in the morning.

I have my newest book series to thank for that, and a certain curly haired someone.  I'm scrolling through the messages and grinning like a fool.  Then my stomach drops, and my smile falls away.  What am I doing?  I'm Amelia's boyfriend.  Was, was her boyfriend.  And Sherlock was her best friend her whole life.  But wouldn't she want us happy?  In the letter she wrote me, she told me she wanted me happy.  And I am happy right now.  Sherlock...he's different for me.  I'd never really thought about my sexuality, since Amelia had been my only relationship.  And Sherlock makes me feel the same way I did when I first met Amelia-giddy and jumpy and like I was never going to stop smiling.  I hadn't given any thought to dating after she died, but she gave both Sherlock and I the letters.  It almost seems like she planned it.

She was so smart.

 --

I wake up late the next morning.  I'm meeting Sherlock at three, and I glance at my watch, noticing that it's already quarter to two.  I jump off the bed, shower, and throw on a dark blue v-neck and a pair of jeans.  After a moment of consideration, I grab my favorite white sweater, one that Amelia had given me.  It's cable knit and one of the warmest things I own.  I run out to my car and climb in, sending a text to Sherlock.

"On my way, what's your address?"

_"221 Baker Street."_

_\--_

"Jesus." I mutter to myself as I pull up in front of the house.  It's practically a mansion- white, with pillars and a porch that wraps all around the house.  A girl sits on a porch swing, reading.  She's got long, curling dark hair that falls to her waist and long legs clad in jeans.  She hears my approach and jumps up.

"Hi!  I'm Mya, Sherlock's sister. Are you John?  Ooh, you're cute.  Sherlock hasn't stopped talking about you.  Are your eyes really as blue as he says...oh, wow, they are-"

"Mya!" Sherlock's voice cuts through the girls sentence and she stops, suddenly looking guilty.  

"Sorry," she says, then smiles and skips back to the porch swing, stuffing her face back in her book and ignoring Sherlock as he thumps her on the shoulder with his hand.  

"Sorry about that," he says, rolling his eyes.  "That's Mya.  She's sixteen and doesn't know when to stop talking.  He raises his voice as he finishes the sentence and Mya flips him off.  He sighs and turns to me.  

"Ready?" I ask, and he nods.  I stare for a moment, smiling a bit, until I hear Mya's laughs from the porch.  I blush and trot around to the passenger side and gesture in.  Sherlock laughs and climbs in, and I smile as I shut the door and move around to my side.  I stick my key into the ignition and turn to him.  "Where to?"

He thinks for a moment.  "Anywhere.  No, I know.  Let's go to that bookstore on Main with the coffee shop inside."

I nod, trying (and probably failing) to hide my excitement at the idea.  "Will you buy me books and coffee?" I say, batting my eyelashes at him.  

"Maybe, but it's gonna cost you something."  He fiddles with the radio for a moment, finally setting on a station that's playing Fall Out Boy.  I smile and turn up the music, tapping my fingers on the wheel.  After a moment I realize I never asked Sherlock what the coffee was worth.

"So what do I owe you if you buy me coffee?"

He smirks and leans his head against the window.  "A kiss."

I nearly swerve off the road at that.  I stare at him, my mouth hanging open.  He stares back, totally unabashed.  "Is that not a fair trade?" he asks, smiling widely.

"Nope." I say as I turn my attention back to the road.  "I think I get off a lot better in the end.  Books, coffee, and a kiss?  Dear me, Mr. Holmes."  

Out of the corner of my eye I see Sherlock smiling and my heart nearly explodes.  This is absolutely perfect- good music, a gorgeous day, and a gorgeous date.  Without thinking I take one hand off the steering wheel and grab his, and after a moment he winds his fingers through mine.


	5. Books and Kisses

We're settling in at the back of the bookstore, me resting my head in Sherlock's lap as he reads to me.  One of his hands is stroking through my hair, and that paired with his deep baritone are just about sending me off to sleep.  A woman passes us and smiles.

"You two make a cute couple, if you don't mind my saying." she says, blushing a bit.

"Thank you, ma'am."  I smile awkwardly up at her and she puts a hand over her heart.  She smiles warmly and walks away.  I glance up at Sherlock.

"What are you reading?  I like it."  He flips the book so I can see the cover-one of Cassandra Clare's books I hadn't read before.  "Clockwork Angel?  I like it.  Keep reading."  He jostles his leg so my head knocks against his knee and I pout, jutting out my lower lip.  "Buy me coffee?" I say, fluttering my lashes again.  He laughs and nods, tucking the book under his arm as he helps me up.  He keeps his fingers laced with mine as we walk, and I smile.  He swings our hands a bit and I feel like we're in some shit romance movie but I'm beyond caring.

We get the coffee and the book then head out the door.  I stop just outside and take Sherlock's coffee, dumping it along with mine into the trash.  He looks confused but seems to understand as I grab his arm and drag him around the corner.  I push him backwards so he's against the wall and stand on my toes, leaning close.  He grins, his pupils blown huge.  

"I believe I owe you something," I whisper, dragging my eyes from his mouth and focusing back on his.  I lean in so my lips are just centimeters from his, suddenly hesitant.

He obviously doesn't feel the same way, because he closes the distance between the two of us.  His lips are warm and soft and the kiss tastes like too sweet coffee but it's the best I've had.  When we pull away, he's smiling.  I lick my lower lip, wanting to remember the taste of the kiss for the rest of my life.  I press another quick one to his lips then pull away, taking his hand and leading him to the car.  The drive back to his place takes way too short a time, even though I'm driving with one hand on Sherlock's and I'm rubbing circles into his palm with my thumb.  Almost as soon as we pull away from the shop, though, he falls asleep.  I listen to his even breathing, smiling to myself.  When we reach his home, I reach over and gently nudge his shoulder.

He jerks awake, straightening up and smacking his head on the window.  His curls are flattened on one side, and I stifle my laughter.  "John?" he grunts, looking confused.

"Home now, Sherlock."  I rub his back gently while he yawns and stretches like a cat.  He glares out the window then looks at me and something in his eyes has changed.  He looks...sad.

"I don't want to go home yet John.  Please."  I sit silently for a moment before nodding and wordlessly pulling from the drive, heading back to my house.  "Where are we going?" he asks, starting to fully wake up.

"My house," I say, and he smiles and raises an eyebrow.  "Nothing sordid, horn dog." I roll my eyes and punch his shoulder.

 --

"I can't believe your parents actually left you on your own.  Don't you get lonely?"  We're sat on the sofa, his head in my lap.  I toy with his curls and shrug.

"It's been a while since I've been close to someone, so I was fine with it since I was alone anyways."  I smile, and he looks up at me, his eyes wide.

"You're not alone anymore, John, you have me."  He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.

I smile down at him, stroking his cheek with my thumb.  "I know, Sherlock.  Thank you."


	6. Stay

I go to the kitchen, digging through the stack of take-out menus on the counter.  "Sherlock, I'm ordering a pizza." I wait for his response and he grunts back something that seems like approval.  I order in a large pepperoni one then walk back into the living room.  Sherlock is in the middle of the sofa, curled into a ball and watching a movie.  I plop down next to him and he immediately curls again my side, tucking his head against my chest.  I wind an arm around his waist and kiss the top of his head, inhaling his scent.  

"Can I stay here tonight?" he mumbles, eyes still on the movie.  

"Of course you can."  I lean down and kiss the end of his nose.  "Are things okay at home?"  I comb my fingers through his hair and he shrugs.  To my horror, a tear rolls down his cheek.  "Hey, Sherlock, we don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

He sighs, wiping his face.  "It's nothing.  My parents are fighting, and Mya's always pushing my buttons and my parents are yelling at me.  I came out to them a while ago, but I never had a boyfriend until now."  I start to say something but he cuts me off.  "No, this isn't your fault, it was going to happen eventually.  They just need time to adjust."  I rub his back gently.  "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

I nod.  "Course we can."  Someone knocks on the door and I unwind myself from Sherlock, padding to the door.  I snag the money from the table and pay the delivery boy.  As I turn, Sherlock comes up behind me and takes the pizza from my hand, tossing it onto the table and pushes me against the door, kissing me almost angrily.  I make a surprised noise against his mouth and kiss him back, trapping his face between my hands.  Eventually, he pulls away and we're both gasp for air.

"What was that for?" I ask as he steps back.

"Who needs a reason?"  He winks and grabs the pizza, laughing quietly to himself.  He walks into the living room, leaving my standing there trying to fix my breathing.  I follow him in and he opens the pizza, nibbling at a slice and eyeing me.  I reach for a piece but he smacks my hand away.  I turn to him and glare, but his eyes stop me.  He scoots closer and kisses my jaw.  He keeps teasing me- snuggling into my neck, lips and teeth marking me there.  One hand in my hair, turning me towards him gently at first, and I was hesitant to respond.  But after some more nudges with his lips, I melt into his arms.  I turn to meet his moth, my hand tangling in his dark curls as he presses me back against the cushions.  His legs tangle with mine and I'm pretty sure I've forgotten to breathe.  

He pulls back for a moment, his forehead against mine as we breathe heavily.  He looks into my eyes and smiles before leaning in for another kiss, this one sweeter than any I've ever had, but then they heat up again as he presses harder against me, his whole body flush against mine.  I gasp for air as I kiss him harder, and he moans against my mouth and  _holy shit-_

I turn my head as he kisses down my neck, breathing hard.  After a moment, a noise breaks us apart.  A gunshot in the movie.  I laugh breathlessly and pull him against my chest, and he curls against me, his breath warm against my collarbone.

He whispers something and I lean down, kissing his jaw.  "What was that?"

"I was thanking Amelia."


	7. Thank You.

_Thank you, Amelia.  I honestly cannot thank you enough._

_Sherlock and I have been together for two years now.  I think I'm going to propose.  I guess...this is me asking for your blessing.  I already talked to Sherlock's family and they don't mind.  But I just feel like maybe you should agree as well.  I know I can't really ask you, which is why I'm writing you this letter. ~~I guess just give me some type of sign~~ I feel so silly doing this.  I loved you, Amelia, but I'm marrying Sherlock regardless.  I guess right now, I'm just letting you know._

_I'll always love you, Amelia.  Always.  But now I love Sherlock too.  And we're getting married and I have never been happier._

_-John_

I place the letter on her grave.  I stand back, my hand finding Sherlock's.  It's been exactly two years since we met here, and it feels like it's only passed in a week.  

"It seems a bit harsh to say that I'm over her, doesn't it?" I say, leaning into him.  He laughs and shakes his head, turning me towards him for a kiss.  I smile and break away.  "There's nothing romantic about a graveyard, Sherlock."

"Course there is," he mutters, kissing me again.  We stand there for a moment before I feel something in the pit of my stomach and I pull away again.

"You know, I'm glad you said that because I really didn't want to wait to do this."  He raises an eyebrow and I take a step back, my breathing suddenly painful.  I take a deep breath and look into his eyes.  "Just...don't say anything for a moment."  He nods and crosses his arms.  I breathe deeply again then reach into my pocket.  A few days ago I went out and bought a ring.  I felt it in my pocket each day, weighing down and burning a hole there.  Now, in my hand, it felt heavier than ever before.  I cleared my throat.

"Right.  Well.  William Sherlock Scott Holmes," I say, and he glares at me for using his full name.  "You are...the best thing that could have happened to me.  These past two years have been the best of my life, you know that?  Don't-don't say anything."  He seems to realize what's happening and his hands fall limply to his sides.  "Look, you lost Amelia too.  And you know how hard it was.  But...when I lost her, I was always so close to...well.  And those two years I waited, they were the only thing keeping me from going completely insane.  And when I met you, my life actually changed.  Within seconds I actually felt like there was a reason for me to still be here without her.  You saved me, Sherlock.  And I am forever grateful to you and I love you so much."  I sit down on one knee and I feel my hands shaking as I pull the box from my pocket.  He puts on hand over his mouth and my chest nearly explodes when I meet his eyes.  

"Sherlock Holmes...will you marry me?"  

He falls to his knees in front of me and grabs my face in his hands, pulling me in for a kiss.  My chest feels so tight I can hardly breathe and I let out a breathy laugh.  

"Is that a yes?" He nods and a tear falls down his face and he laughs as I put the ring on his finger.  We kiss again, both of us on our knees in front of Amelia's grave.  We break away, our foreheads together, and a breeze tousles our hair, the note fluttering against Amelia's headstone.

And in the breeze I swear I can smell the faintest scent of vanilla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this! The comments you left made me smile x
> 
> I have some other fics in progress so if you want to check them out please do, I need some feedback on those. And again, thank you all x


End file.
